Father sky your ruthlessness is ancient 

Unbearable to the legions of grace

The broken glass in the corridor of centuries 

Is the only witness to the funeral of the world

This existence runs on whispered machines 

Feeding grief to a heart that drowned years ago 

The bride cries lucid hidden from senses

Bring forth thy requiem that states the future 

Unbounded by sexual intellect and reflections 

The bride cries undercover hidden from senses 

Fortunate is the season gray - Solitude is sterile.

Abstraction paints a portrait - Hidden from senses.

Like armies blinded by deceptions once unknown 

You and I will die another morning

This passing moment is damned by the season of communion 

That confirms my insanity 

Abstraction paints a portrait - Hidden from senses